


i’ve been burned before

by beccastanz



Series: Becca’s Canonverse Fics [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Appropriate Use of the Force, Consensual burn kink, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Force Healing, Glove Kink, Inappropriate Use of Lightsabers, Kinda, consensual burn play, depending who you ask
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25137658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beccastanz/pseuds/beccastanz
Summary: “I don’t want to hurt you.”But their bond is strong, emotions passing unburdened, no secrets hidden for long.He’s lying.“Yes you do.”Expanded oneshot based on amicrofic
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Becca’s Canonverse Fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1958131
Comments: 70
Kudos: 197
Collections: Reylo Hidden Gems





	i’ve been burned before

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Becca’s 2020 Microfics](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25107640) by [beccastanz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beccastanz/pseuds/beccastanz). 



> we ✈️ to hell  
> Mind the tags

His saber, mere inches from her throat, threatens.

The steady thrum of his broken kyber crystal beats out a delicious pace, syncs with the pulsing heat between her legs as she turns toward him, expression mirthful.

“You win. Come take your prize.”

He beams.

When he tackles her to the ground like so many times before, the air crackles with something sinister. The tension of Rey’s ask from weeks ago has built to a fever pitch, and when he tosses his saber to the side as his lips attack her neck, she cannot help a small sigh of annoyance. 

“Ben, please,” she groans from her position on the training mat, pushing him up to hover over her chest. His eyes are already burning, but a sheen of restraint clouds his view. She can feel it as though it is her own—but restraint is the furthest thing from what she needs in this moment.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

But their bond is strong, emotions passing unburdened, no secrets hidden for long. 

He’s lying. 

“Yes you do.”

He shudders and amends. 

“I don’t want to _want_ to hurt you.”

“But I want you to,” she coaxes. “Hurt me...so you know you can heal me.”

She leaves out the thrill of pain by his hands, how it doubles the throb in her cunt—too difficult to admit aloud, but the bond ensures that her desire permeates his consciousness.

Force healing has been a sore subject ever since that fateful night on Exegol—Ben convinced his power of revival was a one time burst of luck, doomed to an inability to replicate her restoration.

Practice was ineffective—plants and small animals barely scratching the surface of what Rey knew he could do. Everyday accidents occurred on base often, but Resistance members were still wary of his presence, no one believing his allegiance enough to let him near when they were hurt.

He needs practice, and Rey is his everything.

She reaches for his saber, and it flies to her hand as effortlessly as it did in the throne room.

He shakes above her as she reignites the blade at her side, guiding the hilt to his hand, warmth already grazing her skin by the close proximity. She shakes with anticipation as he rears back onto his knees between her legs.

She holds eye contact as she strips beneath him, tunic and leggings followed by her arm bands and breast covering, then finally her underwear until she is bare to his hungry gaze. She feels a rush of wetness at the view above—her Ben, all in black, saber ignited, eyes dark enough to devour, and beneath it all, an unending devotion that fills every emptiness in her heart.

Trust.

At the first wave of his saber over her body, she can’t help but shudder—she wants this so badly, it’s uncontrollable. There is a thrum of nerves beneath it all—but they’re not hers.

“It’s okay, Ben, please.”

Begging is no longer shameful—not with him.

She feels him reach out to the force, and a gentle coax passes through her. The shaking stops.

Precision is probably best for what they’re planning to do—he’s so careful, so thoughtful, she nearly cries. But this is not yet a time for tears.

He starts at her arm, blade hovering over the mirrored location of her scar.

She begins to sweat—the heat near scorching as he brings it closer, closer, until finally, the blade grazes her skin.

She yelps—it’s instinct, unavoidable, and yet it morphs into a moan when his empty hand immediately wraps around the wound, flooding it with love, devotion, attention, care, and it feels sinfully good, the healing power passing through her blood until the mark is gone. The only evidence left is her panting, and a rapidly growing wetness between her thighs.

“Again.”

He nearly growls, hesitation melting away before her eyes as he brings the saber down against her thigh. She tries to twitch but his mental hold on her never wavers. She stays firmly pinned to the mat, and again he soothes the burn with a hand wrapped around the wound. She thrills at how positively minuscule she looks beneath him, her thigh nearly engulfed. Now, pain and arousal and overwhelming sensation build until she overflows, and a single tear escapes each eye.

He pulls back, searching her face for a sign—she projects through the bond, walls broken down to nothing, disallowing any inkling of skepticism at how much she needs this, needs to fall apart beneath him and be stitched back together. She wants every part of him.

At this release of truth, he gets bolder.

He pulls back until the very tip of his blade hovers over her chest. Sweat pools in the valley between her breasts, drips across her torso. His eyes follow that single bead until it hits the mat, and his tongue darts to wet his lips. 

Jealousy pools in her gut—why was she not yet beneath his tongue? And yet she willed this sweet torture to never end.

The thinnest part of the glow caresses the underside of her breast—he moves it in a curve, drawing an outline of fire across her very soul, and the tears flow, more drops collecting beneath her, salt on salt.

The noises escaping her now are far from human, a cacophony of screams, moans, gasps, until she is a puddle underneath him as he drags a single thumb across the mark, leaving perfectly pink healed flesh in his wake.

The force can no longer hold back her shudders at his careful ministrations—when she shatters, he just barely breaks his silence, a huff through his nose as he observes the results of their debauchery.

And now, Rey cannot help but spread her legs.

“Ben,” she pleads through her tears—and he understands her, of course he does, he knows her like no one else will, sees every part and loves her more with each new revelation.

“One more, my little scavenger. You’re doing so well.”

Somehow, the praise makes her blush deeper than displaying her wetness in a show of pure lust. Their bodies carry no shame, but his words still have the power to make her come apart.

When he hovers the blade between her legs, she can hardly control herself—and yet she absolutely must, must lock her limbs and urge him to _please Ben yes god yes fuck yes do it._

When he brings the blade to the juncture of her thigh, she positively wails. She’s sure she couldn’t possibly feel anything so deliciously raw—that is, until he throws the saber to the side, kneels between her legs, and soothes the burn with his tongue.

It’s _everything._

Tendrils of power escape his eager mouth, healing the flesh beneath, so careful to replace every ache with amorous affection until she is positively quaking with need, a puddle beneath her.

“I’m going to take care of you, Rey,” he murmurs before licking a stripe up her cunt.

The build up was an exquisite torment, and worth it for this very moment of triumph. They’ve both won today, she thinks, as he laps up every bit of wetness she has to offer, no crevice left unexplored.

She is all moans now, breathy little things all she can manage after the exertion, so she pushes through the bond _yes Ben you did it I knew you could I love you please please yes there fuck so good please_

Gloved fingers prod her entrance, wet enough for two to easily push their way inside as he sucks her clit ardently.

The drag of leather inside of her adds another layer to their tryst, depravity permeating every fiber of their shared being.

The wail of her climax matches the one of the first touch of his saber to her skin—but the pleasure seems to last forever as he continues to rub that spot within and lick at her oversensitive bud until he is positive that no more sound could be drawn out.

He sucks the gloved fingers into his mouth before moving up her body, gently tucking an escaped tendril behind her ear as he studies her.

Now she is the one beaming.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Here’s my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/beccastanz) so you can yell at me


End file.
